Endgame
by DolphinNoises
Summary: Elena was done fighting her attraction to Christian Grey. The deafening tattoo of her heart paralleled her determination to match his own sounds against his bared, willing body. His flesh would be tweaked to the color red she favored, yet at what cost?


**Disclaimer:** **Fifty Shades of Grey and characters belong to E. L. James.** **Anastasia had a great destination in mind for Mrs. Robinson in the 2nd book. I decided to send her there, because I agree with Ana wholeheartedly. **

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Christian's muscles corded and flexed visibly beneath his tanned skin as he lifted a log into the air, sinew mating flux as he altered his stance to throw it onto the growing pile. The sunlight danced on the sheen of sweat coating his skin as he bent down to grasp one after another in a rhythm of brute strength.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Elena wasn't sure if it was the sound of the logs hitting the pile or the detectable cadence and staggering jumps in her own heartbeat as the pounding increased in response to the potent, drool inducing image before her as she watched him from her new deck.

She was done fighting her unconventional attraction to him. She'd forfeit that battle. The deafening tattoo of her heart paralleled her burgeoning determination to match his own sounds against his bared, willing body. His browning flesh would be tweaked to the color red she loved so well.

Grace Trevelyn Grey's little boy wouldn't know what hit him.

_Her_.

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Leaning on the counter to rest his sore back muscles, Christian relished in the cooling water as he drank from the ice cold glass, refreshing his tired body after exhausting hours moving logs and materials from her back yard. The large addition on the back of Elena's house had finally been completed, and he was glad to be nearly finished with the removal of construction debris.

While he was happy for the beverage in his grasp, his mind was decidedly on edge. Backed up against her cold granite island, he watched her watching him, a feral gleam in her eye he couldn't decipher.

He wasn't certain that he was capable of understanding the beautiful, older woman in front of him, even though she was no stranger to him.

She kissed him and slapped him in the last few days, and he felt guilty for wanting her to kiss him again – he'd welcome the slapping too, if it meant that she would allow him to get closer to her voluptuous body.

_Attainable tits, ass and pussy - a teenage boys wet dream._

"The cold granite will feel good against the back of your tired legs and spine. Hop up and lean back. Now."

He placed the glass on the counter and the ice chips clinked against the crystal, causing him to startle slightly. She wasn't making a suggestion and he knew instantly to listen. He leaned back onto the cold stone and arched his spine to lift himself up, muscles protesting and small groans emanating from his instantly dry lips.

No amount of water could quench his nervousness now that she was approaching him, swaggering around the island in sure, sensual strides.

The dip of her blouse revealed the valley of the breasts she'd caught him gawking on previous occasions, and her hardened nipples were visible through the thin, transparent fabric. His widened eyes were focused on them as she stalked towards her prey, a calculating cadence set in each step as her hips and breasts drew him in, her womanly curves demanding his attention.

She smirked when she neared him, the fabric of his tented shorts pulling against his straining erection as his body reacted to her seductive advances.

She knew she had him.

_It will be so easy, teen hormones and a raging sexual appetite for my taking._

He yelped when her lack of hesitation became clear, her small hand suddenly gripping the seams of his crotch, her palm grasping soundly onto his straining erection trough his shorts. Her nails scratched against his zipper, red talons gripping the khaki fabric as her other hand drew his zipper down, the sound of the metal undoing mimicking his own resolve to _not_ act, to not succumb to what he believed to be wrong.

Elena was on of his mother's oldest friends. This was the woman he'd known since childhood. This was not what was supposed to happen.

_This was also deliciously forbidden, and he couldn't stop if he tried._

Her smirk grew as he moaned into the air, his growing passion filling the silent space around them and his maturing voice cracking beneath the pressure of his moans and her movement, his vocal strains echoing off of the cabinets, stone and steel that watched the forbidden in silent observation. Her sighs joined his own as she felt the full weight and girth of him in her hand. He was too big for her palm, and that was a pleasant discovery.

She would have so much fun with _this _one.

Reaching into the parted zipper, she drew him out, along with his anticipation. He twitched between both of her joined hands as she pulled him up, up, up into freedom, into his first time in hands not his own, mewling into her rhythms, down and back towards heaven and the bliss he wasn't yet prepared for.

One eyebrow lifted nearer to her blond hairline as her feral smile grew more wicked, lulling him further into the submission she would demand from him as she leaned forward, her nipples pressing into his spread thighs. Her hungry lips broached the space between them as her tongue taunted her teeth and opened for his tip.

"Time for my dinner, sweet boy."

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Christian was perfect from the start.

His submission was delicious and pleased Elena immensely. His exuberant participation fed her hunger for control and she pushed him further with every exchange. When she finally allowed him to penetrate her in the way he begged for, she took great delight in appeasing him, knowing that she was receiving his loyalty in exchange. A woman could have total control of a man if she used her wiles correctly, and her wiles were advantageously coming all over his glorious, young cock.

His stamina matched her own, and his inexperience played to her advantage.

She would milk him dry and only demand more. She would be everything to this pliant young man, and her wiles would remain at the forefront of her agenda. Whatever she wanted, she would take.

She _did_.

Every encounter grew more intense, every manipulation more calculating. He wanted, and she dictated exactly how much he would receive. He altered his responses to please her and she reciprocated by pushing him physically, in ways that would hone his appetites and keep him subservient and insatiable, a hunger that was never fed fully and designed only to grow with each passing encounter.

Pained. Pleasured. Devoted.

Just like she liked _them_.

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Years passed and so did the torch. Christian Grey was now a maverick, a powerful man unafraid by the limitations or expectations society or his family expected of him. He was the powerful creator of new ideas and concepts that would benefit many, but his profit margin most of all. She never doubted his loyalty, and she restructured her approach to use her wiles in other ways as his success grew, knowing that she was paramount to the success he now was.

He never hesitated when she needed funding for business ventures, and she was his sole confidant when a new submissive plaything was required. They were all distractions, place markers for what Elena knew herself to be. She'd taught him well...or so she thought - until Anastasia Steele showed up.

Elena knew she needed to be more resourceful. She needed to step up her game if such a little nothing could worm her way into Christian's insular existence.

_"Mrs. Robinson."_

Elena tested the nickname on her lips and she shook her head in disgust, sighing loudly in defiance, in attempt to quell her disdain for the girl who gave her that nickname. Christian may have shared it with her in a teasing fashion, and Elena may have laughed at it initially, but there was nothing funny about being judged, especially when she believed her actions to be above reproach. The more she thought about the epithet, the more it irked her. She was sure that the naive young woman was being derogatory. There was no mistaking Anastasia's opinion, and that _that_ opinion mattered.

_Gormandizing on innocence and opportunities is what I do, little girl. I am the wolf. You will be the prey. Christian will not remain loyal to you like he is to me, no matter how much you try to force yourself into the mold that will satisfy him most. You may be his current flavor, but he will tire of you. He will sake his hunger elsewhere, and he'll come to me to help him do it. _

At the end of it all, Elena would always be _his_ first and his only.

It was time to show Ms. Steel that she would not be intimidated by an insignificant, expendable kickshaw.

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Elena fingered the invitation to Christian's birthday party, her blood red talons leaving a trace of color against ecru fibers, a trace of color marring the paper like blood on flesh.

She smiled at the memory of Christian's prostrate body, his skin raw from strikes as he begged for more. She'd given him everything he ever wanted and needed, and she was willing to give him so much more now that she realized he was capable of attaching himself more romantically to that little upstart.

It would be her instead...and soon.

Elena lifted the newspaper article from her desk and ripped out the picture of Christian and Anastasia together, taken at the Soiree. She pushed a hole through the paper where Anastasia's face had been, intentional sunder with aspirations for a future reality.

She would try to get Christian alone at the party and attempt to talk some sense into him. She would find a way to broach her rejected advances, and get _them_ back on course to what they were...what they _could_ be, together, knowing that he seemed to be pliable once again.

_He may like his girlfriend but I'll be the one to satisfy what that incompetent whore will never satiate._

Pleased with her plan and determined to succeed, she dressed herself carefully and left to go to the Grey's estate for the party.

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**_"Take your filthy paws off my son, you whore, and get out of my house – now!"_**

_Fifty Shades Darker, page 523_

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Elena was astounded by the vitriol in Grace's voice and the manner in which she was asked to leave the party after the truth of her relationship had been discovered by her friend. The liaisons she'd had with Christian had been so long ago, and nothing bad came of her years at his helm. The entire Grey family and even the irritating Ms. Steele owed much to her molding him into what he ultimately became, the master of his own universe - and now he was going to be the master of Anastasia's universe, as her husband.

_Husband._

Just the thought of Christian marrying that bitch was enough to make Elena feel violently ill and insanely jealous. She walked in a silent daze down the Grey's expansive driveway to where her car was parked with her head hung low, tears surging down her cheeks.

She barely remembered her drive home, and understood nothing of how the evening could go so wrong.

She wasn't the type to focus on reality or discovering the truth, so she never would.

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As the weeks passed, Elena tried to speak with her oldest friend, but Grace never returned her calls and made sure to shun her in society when their paths crossed. Wide berths were kept, much to Elena's displeasure.

Nothing seemed to make sense anymore in Mrs. Robinson's world.

She blamed Anastasia Steele for it all, and never herself.

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After weeks of depression, Elena knew what she needed and she had just the young man to re-establish her semblance of control. She'd noticed the new neighbors' son mowing the lawn recently. He was fourteen years old and muscled in the way she preferred her playthings to be.

Malleable was always important, most of all. And he certainly _was_.

Days later, after bringing him over to her home under the guise of needing his help in her back yard, he was pumping into her with zeal. He was unable to grasp his unbelievable good fortune, the hot older woman willing to spread her legs for him as she let him do whatever he wanted to her in exchange for his submission to her will.

Yet submission meant nothing when control of secrets were absent, and a secret this fantastically scandalous was never a secret worth keeping for long, especially when it felt as good as it did to a fourteen year old that had a taste for what she was giving him.

Where Christian was able to maintain discretion regarding his activities with the older woman, the newest strapping young lad could _not._ His friends soon learned of his good fortune, and gossip broached the silence intended for what she'd allowed him to do to her body, and what she'd inflicted on his own.

It was a lesson Elena never accepted in responsibility, even as the sound of sirens were detected in the distance, one fateful day.

The noises drew closer and closer until they turned down her block, bringing families out onto their front lawns to watch in curiosity.

Their sirens echoed off of the structures in her little enclave, and lights streamed over her perfectly landscaped yard, her shrubbery scintillating in blues as reds as the police cruisers came to stop in front of her home. When she saw the slew of officers get out of their cars, she knew her time was up.

Her countdown manifested far differently than she'd expected, giving her no time to falter in her resolve to always remain in control.

She never panicked.

Calculated.

Determined.

Without remorse.

She tuned and began the means to her end.

**Ten**...the number of young boys she victimized while sating her desires for flesh too young as the sexual predator she made no apologies for being. The boys were perfect for her _needs, _Christian Grey being her finest conquest of all.

**Nine**...the number of years eight of her victims would need in therapy, to try to undo the damage they would face in the wake of her manipulations, ministrations and the mind games she forced on them.

**Eight**...the number of times she tried to contact Christian after he confided in her that his _wife_ was expecting. He never contacted her after that last meeting, his avoidance blending despair into the reds of her anger the blacks of her hatred from the woman he called the love of his life.

**Seven**...the seconds it took for her to run to her closet, where she stored her Glock.

**Six**...feet under she would be, as she smiled at the thought. _On her terms_. That made the most sense to her, ultimate control over the unacceptable alternative, which would come to pass if she opened the door to her approaching visitors. Her freedom would be taken from her, replaced with the confines of a jail cell. _No submission. Never._

**Five**...fingers remembered, wrapped around the grooved leather handle of her beloved riding crop as she traced it up Christian's young and willing cock. He whimpered in fear when she did that, sending shivers of delight down her spine. It was her happy memory, her final remembrance.

**Four**...The battering knocks on the door as she lifted the barrel to her pounding chest.

**Three**...The deep breaths she took before speaking her last words.

**Two**...consonants. "Good Bye." She held the image of her obsession in her mind as she whispered, Christian's stunningly handsome face her _last_.

**One**...pull of the trigger.

**Endgame**.

Hell awaited.

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~oOo~ _Laters_ ~oOo~

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**Final Notes:**

_"You're nothing but a sick child molester, and if it were up to me, I'd toss you into the seventh circle of hell and walk away smiling."_

_Fifty Shades Darker, page 521_

We know very little about Elena's background and there is no mention of other young victims in the books. My opinion is that a sick, sexual predator like this would not stop at just _one - _plus I wanted to make Anastasia's words a reality, so this is what I thought would facilitate it, turning Ana's quote into fact. If only this was the definitive end to child molesters and abusers everywhere in the world. Hell is the perfect place for them to be.


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